


but to you i just keep falling

by Kyoshu_Koi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Klance Secret Santa 2016, Lance (Voltron) is a Dork, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Keith (Voltron), cliche american high school, just because i love the trope and it's hilarious, keith is an idiot, nyma and lance used to date, pidge is so done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyoshu_Koi/pseuds/Kyoshu_Koi
Summary: Two idiots, one town, and zero understanding of each other's feelings. Bring on the popcorn.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HOLIDAYS ZACK! Hope you enjoy the gift

Keith glanced up from his phone to the sound of pure idiocy.

"The hell does she thinks he's doing here?" A guy laughed, taking a drag of his cigarette and sneering at a little girl; she was obviously a beginner judging from her wobbly legs and puckered expression.

Keith held back a smile at the sight of her pink knee pads.

Another junkie laughed. “Do you think she’ll break a bone?”

“Ha. That’d be cool.”

Keith straightened up, glaring at the boy next to him. He shrunk down into his body, mumbling an excuse as he walked away, his friends at his tail. Keith watched them go before snatching the cancer stick from Rolo's mouth and stomping it out with his foot. The said boy protested with a shout, but Keith ignored him, getting up and heading straight for the girl.

Someone sitting on a nearby bench shifted, poised, as if ready to strike.

"Hey," Keith started, eyeing the person on the bench as he spoke, "your stance is wrong."

The girl blinked. "Oh,” she mumbled, looking down at her feet with wet eyes.

"Put your right foot forward and your left back,” Keith instructed, “That should help.”

She stared up at him, mouth wide. Keith quirked an eyebrow and she quickly nodded, switching her feet and rocking back and forth a bit, a smile spreading across her face once she realized she could stay on. "Thanks," she said, testing her balance a bit more. She slipped forwards and Keith caught her by the elbows, steadying her. 

"I'm Maria, by the way, Maria McClain. I'm in fifth grade, though all my friends say I look like a sixth grader, so I think I could pass as a sixth grader. You look like a high schooler. Are you a high schooler? Or are you like me and just look like one?”

“I … I’m a high schooler,” Keith stated.

He could practically see the starts in her eyes. “That’s so cool! You get, like, lockers and stuff! Wait, since you're a high schooler, does that mean you know my brother?"

I don’t …." Keith mumbled with a shrug, glancing away at the wrong time. The boy who'd been sitting on the bench finally got up. His face blurred from the stereotypical profile as he got closer, fading into a pointed chin and slightly beady, dark navy eyes. Ah shit. “…know,” Keith finished.

"Well,” Maria chirped, “his name’s-"

Lance – Lance McfuckingClain – frowned and crossed his arms over his chest as he walked over, obviously in his protective mode. Keith stood up. "Go try it out,” he said, gesturing to Maria’s board. She nodded, pushing off with her tiny, elementary school legs and wobbling down the pavement.

"Thank again for helping!" She called behind her. Rolo, ever the child lover, held out a fist for her as she tittered by.

Maria bumped it with a familiar grin.

"Thanks so much for that," tall, bright, and handsome said, tearing his eyes away from what Keith could only assume was his sister. He sent Keith an appreciative grin. Any and all protectiveness he'd been harboring before had faded away.

"I'm Lance,” he greeted with a wave.

Keith felt his ears warm. "I know."

_‘…Fuck.’_

Keith’s face lit up like a lightbulb. _'Great,'_ he thought _, 'I just embarrassed myself in front of a hot guy. Nice job, Keith.’_

"You do?" Lance asked, appalled.

Keith felt his face get hotter still. How could he not know Lance? Everyone knew Lance, everyone. But could Keith say that? No. Go for the simple answer, Keith, go for the simple answer. "You're in my photos class,” he blurted. ...Great. Good job. Go get yourself a medal and a lollipop, you just dug yourself a deeper grave.

Lance laughed as the realization dawned on him, "Yeah, I guess I am, weird we didn’t recognize each other…"

“Technically,” Keith stuttered, “I recognized you.” Lance’s face twitched, his mouth pulling down in a slight frown that had Keith reeling, wondering what he’d done force on hostility.

"Lance! Look!"

Keith turned, catching a glimpse of Maria, skating around like she’d owned the board for a complete ten minutes. Well, at least she was doing better than before.

"You're doing great!" Lance called, laughing like the angel he was. He glanced back at the boy next to him, sizing him up a with a tight smile. “Thanks again,” he mumbled, smile melting into something softer. "I'll see you in photos, Keith."

Keith nodded, dumbfounded at the beauty before him. He watched Lance trot over towards his sister, never even registering the fact that he never told Lance his name.

* * *

 Keith didn’t like Altea.

Everyone here was too kind, too bubbly, too interested in how someone’s day was going or if their sick grandfather was doing well or if they’d seen the candy shop that’d been opened months ago, but somehow managed to be newest addition to their stupidly close knit community.

Altea was perfect for someone who liked social situations, who wasn’t used to the black smog and bustling power of the city. Altea was perfect for someone like … someone like ... His mind flashed through a few random faces, most just ones he saw in the halls daily, as he tried to match the perfect person to the personification of the tiny town. One face stuck out, and Keith scowled, trying to conjure a bubbly, white thought bubble just so he could swat the image away.

“-th… Keith…”

“Ow!” Keith winced, reaching down to grab his shin. “What the fuck, Pidge?”

A random hall monitor made the universal ‘I’m watching you sign’ and, for a brief second, Keith considered flicking them off. Pidge beat him to it, shooting the adult a rather nice bird as the crowd swept the unsuspecting teacher away. Pidge smiled as the educator was dragged away before turning to Keith. They shrugged, gesturing behind them like they didn’t just kick Keith in the leg.

“You just walked past your class.”

“Oh.” Keith glanced back at the familiar door. Or was that just another room? He couldn’t really tell the difference, to be honest. “Uh. Thanks?”

“Aren’t you gonna go?”

‘No.’ “Yeah,” Keith said, giving a lazy wave behind him as he turned back around and headed for his class.

He liked photos, he really did, though he only joined the first level of the class because it involved a two-night trip to the city for its finals project. Turns out he actually liked it, so he just kinda stuck with it over the years, taking every course up to AP level. It was kind of odd, considering that he’d enjoyed astrology as well, but had only dealt with one of the many semester courses offered for the science. He didn’t really know why he enjoyed photography.

It could’ve been the control he had when he framed the shot and set the aperture, it could’ve been the dark room and its magnitude of shadows. It could’ve been because Hunk was sticking with it, too, and Keith could never really mind Hunk.

“Oh, hey Keith.”

He could mind Lance, though. He could totally mind Lance.

“Hi,” Keith said, brief and short and totally closed off. Too bad Lance didn’t seem very good at reading body language.

“How’d your shoot go?” Lance pressed, following Keith as he dumped his bag next to his seat and started shuffling around in it for his camera case, “I couldn’t really find that many plants to take a picture of. I just ended up stomping around in my mom’s garden until she found me and busted my ass.” He laughed at the end, a high pitched, hearty sound that definitely didn’t suit him. Keith glanced up at him, taking in Lance’s chiseled features.

He seemed more like a deep, breathy-laugh kind of guy.

Keith tore his eyes away, yanking his camera out of his bag and dropping it lightly on his table. Which, now that he looked closer at it, suddenly had some more seats taken, a few backpacks scattered on the chairs.

“Oh, yeah,” Lance said, apparently having noticed Keith’s staring, “The girl at our table is sick today-” He pointed behind him, and Keith shifted to peer around Lance’s head. Hunk was clambering over from the return bin, his last project in hand. “-so, Hunk and I decided to sit with you.”

Keith sighed and sent the said boy a look. Hunk shrugged and smiled, taking his seat as Coran walked in. Traitor.

“Alright, so who managed to get their nature shoot done this weekend?” Almost every hand went up and Coran clapped excitedly. Lance grinned at Keith from the seat he’d taken beside him. Keith just closed his eyes and tried to find his happy place.

“Psst. Keith. Are you trying to sleep?”

It was evidently a very hard thing to do.

* * *

 Lunch was amusing, to say the least.

Rolo tried and failed to find a way to snort his smiley fries, and that one freshman that sat nearby had an allergic reaction to the latex glove some kid just randomly pulled out, but all in all it was good.

…Kind of.

Keith hadn’t really been able to get Lance off his mind after their one-sided chat during photos. Somehow, they’d ended up using the same development tank – thanks for that, Hunk – and Keith had become the victim of Lance’s chatter all period.

Lance was pretty, really, he was, he had this alluring aura around him that just drew people in. Two bad it was cast away the moment he opened his mouth and spewed the utter shit coursing through his puny brain.

Luckily, the rest of the day passed quickly, the strict routine of school helping immensely, though, by the time eighth hours’ bell rang, Keith was droopy eyed and running solely in the thought of his bed. He nearly got hit twice on his ride home, which was partially his fault and partially the minivan’s, but he still got through his front door in one piece, so that was a plus.

Sadly, that happened to be the only plus of his day.

"Shiro what the fuck?!" Keith breathed, ripping down the note on his door. It was brief, signed with a winky face and a heart, and demanded Keith go get the groceries. He groaned, kicking at his door. Of course, Shiro would play this game, of freaking course.m“My textbooks are in there,” he grumbled to the ceiling, “Why the hell would he, that’s just so …”

Smart. It was unbelievably and incredibly smart, because Keith would never do the shopping anyways. It was also infuriating, but so was almost everything else Shiro did. “Sure, throw my grades on the line. Asshole. There’s isn’t even a freaking list…”

He stopped suddenly, then, with a frustrated sigh, turned the note over. Well. There’s the list.

“I’m gonna get him,” Keith muttered, turning on his heel and heading for the door, “I’m so gonna get him, conceited prick.”

* * *

 Shiro hadn't put more on the list than Keith could carry home, but that didn't really stop him from demanding the worst of the worst.

Two cans of green beans, a box of instant mashed potatoes, some trail mix for Keith's lunches, oh, and the milk, which alone was tough enough to carry in a bag, let alone with fifty bazillion other items. There were a few other things on the list, all of them, ironically, on opposite ends of the store.

“Yeah, no,” Hunk said, handing Keith back the list, “This isn’t gonna be a fun trip for you.”

Keith scowled, “You could be more encouraging, you know, be supportive and help me grab the stuff."

Hunk laughed, “You mean shop for you?” He asked, shaking his head. He was halfway through his shift at this point, mac n’ cheese half stocked on the shelves. Other miscellaneous items for the particular aisle lay on his cart. “Yeah, no can do. Sorry.”

Keith shrunk back into his body, face warm. “It’d be _with_ me, not _for_ me,” he grumbled.

“I’m sorry Keith, I really am. But I have a job to do. This is my college fund, man.” He gestured to the mac n’ cheese boxes next to him. “These right here? They turn into money at the end of the week.” Hunk grabbed one of the boxes, wiggling it Keith’s face. “Moneyyyyyyyyy,” he sang.

Keith laughed, “Okay, okay, but if I’m confused with anything I’m coming to you. Okay?”

Hunk grinned, holding out a hand for a fist bump. Keith rolled his eyes, reluctantly returning the gesture before snatching up one of the many mac n’ cheese boxes and shoving it in his bag.

Fast forward a few minutes later and he was looking at a row of refrigerators, then down at the shopping cart next to him 

"Screw this," Keith grumbled, before reaching into the frozen wasteland of hell to grab a gallon of milk for Shiro, as well as a whatever of almond milk for himself.

He could be working on Physics right now, or that English paper he'd put off for a week. Hell, he could be skating around town, getting pictures of random trees and potted plants for his nature shoot. But what was he doing? Buying stupid milk, that's what he was doing, dealing with his mortal enemy.

"He hates me," Keith decided aloud, "He hates me and adopted me so he could make my life a living hell."

"Who hates who?"

Keith would never admit it, but he yelled, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sudden sound. He whirled around, ready to read back his fist and sock whoever'd snuck up on him in the face.

"Whoa there," Lance reeled, holding his hands up surrender. The bag of Lays chips dangling from his hands didn't exactly help the whole innocent look, not when he looked like that one kid that tried too hard in cops and robbers. "This is my bread and butter right here, dude," he extended a finger to point at his face, "Don't ruin a man’s bread and butter."

Keith lowered his arm. "Oh. It's you."

"Wow, I know, right?" Lance gushed, a dopey grin brightening his features as he dropped his arms, "I haven't seen you in, like, five hours."

In Keith wasn't so entranced he'd be scowling right now. "Nice sarcasm," he deadpanned, "it'll get you real far in life."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Learn to take a joke, bro."

"Learn to make one," Keith quipped.

"Ouch, that hurt."

"It was meant to."

Lance laughed, “Has anyone ever told you you’re awesome at comebacks?” he asked, “Cause, really, you are.”

Keith sighed, ignoring him as he dumped the quart of almond milk in the cart, grabbing the gallon of poison with his remaining hand and nearly tipping over on one side as he lifted it in the cart and headed for the next item on Shiro’s list. Lance, unfortunately, followed close behind.

“Don’t you have anything else to do?” Keith grumbled.

Lance shrugged, “My mom’s off shopping right now and I’m not exactly welcome.” Keith shot him a look and Lance laughed. “I may or may not be guilty of sneaking cookies into the shopping cart. But, hey, I’m sure we’ve all done that at one point.”

Keith shook his head, “Nope. Not all of us.” He stopped suddenly, Lance bumping into him from behind as he reached up to grab some green beans. Lance beat him to it, reaching over to grab them. Keith felt his face grow hot at the feeling of his back against the taller boy’s chest.

For someone who wasn’t into sports he had a weird lack of fat.

Lance snatched the cans off the shelf, holding them out to Keith. And, of course, he ruined the moment, because he always did, by opening his mouth “Here, short stuff.”

Keith glared, turning around and getting an eye full of collarbone, not like it wasn’t appreciated. Damn that boy was pretty. “I’m barely an inch shorter than you,” he growled through his blush, snatching the cans from Lance’s grasp, “In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re the same height, so don’t run your mouth.”

“Simmer down, saucy boy.” Keith scowled at the Romeo and Juliet reference. “And you’re still shorter than me.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am n-!” Keith cut himself off, backing up against the shelf as Lance stepped closer, their noses practically touching. He watched Lance’s eyes, staring up into their blue depths as he got closer and closer until Keith, for some twisted reason, thought he’d kiss him.

Instead Lance held a hand over the top of Keith’s head, the other side of his palm hitting his own eyebrows. “Are too,” he grinned cheekily, stepping away and looking at the difference he’d measured with his fingers. “Hm, a good inch, too.”

Keith just blanked, watching the empty air between them for a full few seconds before his mind actually started working again. “I … do not do that again.”

Lance’s smile drooped, wilting like a flower. “Wha-”

“Ever,” Keith finished.

He turned away, heading for the next grocery he needed.

They walked around the store for a little while longer, Lance behind him, silent save for when Keith would point something out for him to pick up. After a bit, Keith glanced down at his list, noting he had nothing left, and swerved suddenly, pulling the cart around in a full half circle to, nearly whacking Lance in the process. The boy squawked like a desperate rooster, jumping back.

“Okay,” he managed, hoping foot to foot, “you ran over my toes, dude, lie, real hard.”

“Oops,” Keith forced out, continuing down an aisle, deadest on the checkout line. He was done, now he had time for homework, which, in turn, meant he had time for a nap.

“You’ve got a heart of stone, my friend,” Lance proclaimed, clicking his tongue, “And some bad ass turns, apparently. Honestly, I don’t wanna see you behind the wheel, you’re worse than my mom.” He laughed, “Wow. I never thought I’d say that.”

“You’re rambling,” Keith said, pulling into the check out. He stepped around the cart, setting the groceries on that stupid little conveyor belt everyone played with as a kid.

“I noticed,” Lance grumbled, reaching into the cart to help out. Keith eyed him warily, but all he sent back was a grin.

The cashier smiled at them as Keith stepped up towards the counter, grin wide as she asked if they were shopping for date night. Keith was appalled, nearly stumbling back at the sudden assumption. Lance, on the other hand, smiled, his expression blindingly bright. "Well, I guess we look like a coup-"

"He's not my boyfriend," Keith huffed.

She blushed, quickly backtracking and scanning a few more items. "Plastic?" She asked quietly. Keith handed her a reusable bag. She grabbed it with muttered thanks, filling it with the items in awkward silence. A few minutes later he paid with the money Shiro had left, taking the not-so-surprisingly heavy bag and starting off for the door.

For the first time in ten minutes Lance didn’t follow.

Keith glanced over his shoulder, “Shouldn’t you find whoever you were shopping with or something?” he mumbled. Lance shrugged, hands buried in his pockets as he looked around, whistling a bit.

Keith sighed, “Are you even listening to me?”

Lance’s eyes shot over towards Keith’s and he grinned, cheeky and adorable and kind of startling. He looked less like a wannabe casanova and more like an imp ready to pants someone. “Maybe,” he drawled, his smile bordering on shit-eating.

"Lance!"

The said boy winced at the sound of his name, turning towards the direction of the accented voice with a sheepish expression. His shoulders hunched up in embarrassment, something Keith found a bit endearing.

"Mama," Lance greeted.

'Mama' scowled, staring Lance down with a glare that could freeze the sun. She placing her hands on her hips, leaning back on her heals to raise her height the slightest bit. Keith found it funny. Lance looked terrified. "Que estás-" She started, then glanced over to Keith, quirking a quick eyebrow as she cleared her throat. "What do you think you're doing?" she repeated.

"Sorry, Mama," Lance mumbled, haughtiness deflating under her scrutinizing stare. “I thought you were busy."

"I was, and I could have used your help. Honestly, child, where have you been?” Lance opened his mouth but she cut him off. “You were supposed to be watching your sister, she could have run off and gotten hurt! Or worse, abducted!"

"Sorry, ma'am," Keith spoke up. She turned to face him, all five foot of her radiating power that somehow had Keith quaking in his converse. "I ran into him and had a few questions about the homework for tonight and time kind of flew away from us."

She seemed to calm the slightest at that, humming a bit. “You seem like a nice boy,” she stated after a bit. Lance brightened at that. “But I can smell your lies from miles away, child. Do not cover for my stupid son.”

Keith sighed, glancing over to Lance, who was looking more and more like a crying puppy at every second passed. He shrugged, “Hey, I tried.”

“What?!” Lance snapped, voice shrill, “Don’t just give in to her!”

Keith stifled a laugh, “Hey, I’ve seen that look on other moms, she means business and I will _not_ be butting in with that.”

Mrs. McClain smiled, “You know, I like this boy of yo – Maria?!”

“Keith!”

He looked up just in time to get tackled, stumbling back as a ninety-pound child clung to his waist, trying to scramble up higher. Keith stared down at Maria McClain in pure shock. She grinned back up at him, tugging at his shirt impatiently.

“Can you teach me about skating again? Please? Please please pleeeaaassseeee?”

“Maria Isabella!” Mrs. McClain shouted in shock.

Lance held back a snort, turning away so he wouldn’t laugh. He failed, Keith noted dryly. He sighed, grabbing Maria by the shoulders and pulling her away from him, “I can’t, sorry, I have to bring this home for my brother.” He paused. “Wait, how’d you know my name?”

“Lance told me!” Maria chirped, pointing over to her brother, who gasped in shock.

“Wha – I – Lies!” Lance pointed at his sister in disgust. “She is lying!”

Maria just stuck out her tongue. Mrs. McClain swatted her head and she retracted the muscle, muttering a small apology. The older woman turned towards Keith, “I am sorry, are you friends with Maria?”

“No, uh, kinda of. I just, uh,” Keith shifted a bit, wincing as the grocery bag bit into his shoulder, “I ran into your daughter at the skate park over the weekend, that’s all.”

“He showed me where to put my feet!” Maria piped up, “I don’t fall anymore.” Lance snorted and she whirled around, sticking her tongue out again. He mimicked the gesture.

Mrs. McClain’s eyes lit up with recognition, “Oh!” she exclaimed, “So you’re the boy Lance is always talking ab-”

“You know,” Lance interrupted, “I really do think Keith should get going now, his groceries could be, uh, melting! Yeah, they’re melting and it’s gonna take him a while to get home so maybe we should just let him leave?”

His mother shot him a glare, dirty and evil and promising a later talk on the subject. “Well,” she hummed, “we could at least walk him to his car, he has been very kind.” She glanced over to Lance, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Lance soured at the look, face puckering like he’d swallowed a bag of nails.

Keith opened his mouth to speak up, but Lance jumped on him before he could even say anything. He laughed shakily, placing his hands-on Keith’s shoulders, “Keith skateboarded here, so we kinda don’t really need to. Like we really don’t.”

“Uh, sorry, but I didn’t skate here,” Keith corrected. Lance glared at him, hands tightening into a vice death grip. Keith just shook him off. “What?” he grumbled, I can’t skate with all this,” he jiggled the grocery bag in Lance’s face, “doing it with a backpack alone is hard enough.”

Lance groaned, “Good god, you don’t have a freshman backpack, do you? Please don’t tell me you have a freshman backpack?”

Keith crinkled his nose in confusion. “What do you mean, a freshman backpack?”

“You know, a freshie backpack. Like, five binders in it, a pencil pouch the size of your head, the bags’ straps as high up as it can get, makes the kids all top heavy and stuff.”

“I have no idea what you’re even-”

“You walked here?!” Mrs. McClain interrupted, horror strewn across her entire face, “What about your parents? Did they not drop you off?”

Keith shrugged, “I live with my brother and he was at work so I…” was blackmailed into doing this “…just dropped by to pick some stuff up.”

Mrs. McClain’s face contorted into what almost looked like agony and Keith quickly backtracked. “I mean, my house isn’t that far and the weathers nice and walking Is good for me, really, it is.”

“Maria, honey,” Mrs. McClain started, “You’ll be sharing the backseat on the ride home, okay?”

“Okay!”

Keith blinked, “Wait, what?”

* * *

 

Shiro looked mildly impressed when Keith tumbled out of a beat-up Ford, looking like he’d seen the devil. He raised an eyebrow as Keith quickly thanked Mrs. McClain, dragging the bag of groceries behind him as he high tailed it towards his brother. Maria waved out the window as her mom tore out of the driveway, nearly hitting the neighbor’s mailbox as she turned around.

Keith locked eyes with Lance as he passed, giving a small wave. The other boy simply smiled back at him and gave a wave of his own.

“Do I want to know?” Shiro asked once they’d rounded the corner. He was still in uniform, arms crossed on his chest as he leant back against his cruiser. “Actually, scratch that, I really don’t.”

“I …” Keith stumbled over the words, “I forgot what it was like to have a mother.” Shiro snorted. “She’s so overbearing! Oh my god, it’s … was my mom that bad?”

“Worse.”

Keith shuddered.

* * *

 

"Hey, Keith, wait."

Keith glanced up, noting Lance, who was shoving a folder in his bag, one strap dangling from his elbow as he tried, and failed, to nudge his way through the closing door. Keith held back a laugh. Lance simply sent him a sheepish smile, one that left Keith's teeth tingling.

Sorry," Lance breathed, sounding winded. "I, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to walk to class together."

Keith just kind of blinked at him. Oh. Oh. Shit, what was he supposed to say? ‘Sure?’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Okay, great, thanks?’ "I have lunch next," he stated instead, inwardly cursing at himself as whatever little social experience he had promptly socked his brain in its imaginary face.

He vaguely remembered Pidge's words from back when they first met: 'You really don't know how to people, do you.'

Lance grinned, and Keith found himself blinded once again. "Perfect,” Lance chirped, “I have to walk by there to get to English, anyways." He started for the cafeteria, motioning towards the massive swarm of ten ton backpacks that crowded the hallway. Keith just nodded dumbly, following him into the crowd after a few awkward seconds of standing still.

Lance instantly started chatting away, talking about photos and sister, who’d been in the class and had managed to rope him into taking it. "How about you?" Lance asked suddenly, his voice making Keith jolt, "What made you 'open your lens?'"

Keith rolled his eyes at the use of one of Coran's many quotes, "I needed the credits," he deadpanned.

"Ouch," Lance winced, raising a dainty hand to his forehead as he swooned, "A harsh one, you are."

"What?"

Lance blinked at him. "Ya know, Yoda?"

"Excuse me?"

They'd gotten to the cafeteria now, and Keith was just strolling idly with Lance as he passed his table, its sole member, which happened to be Rolo, quirking an eyebrow as Keith walked by. Keith shot him a look and he turned back to his radioactive Mac-n-cheese.

"You've got to be shitting me," Lance said, "Yoda. As in Star Wars?" Keith shook his head, rounding a corner after Lance. The said boy looked like someone had just slapped his grandma. "You, me, after school. You're getting a crash course."

"What?"

Lance turned into a class, pointing a finger at Keith as he backed through the closing door, which then closed half on him. He yelped, swatting it open with a few huffs. Keith chuckled, only to get a nail shoved close to his nose. "Meet me in front of the photos room,” Lance proclaimed, “Don't you ditch!"

And then he took a step back and the door shut and Keith was gaping at blank wood and a sign with chipped numbers and braille.

* * *

 

Keith met Lance after school, not like he had much of a choice. The boy had practically demanded he come, and so Keith went, though Pidge and their shouts of ‘just fuckin go!’ had kinda helped a bit with that.

And so, he stood by the photos class, drawing invisible pegasi on the tile as he waited for Lance to stroll up like prince charming and sweep Keith off his feet. Seven doodled bird-horse-things later and Keith was glancing up at the clock, will for it to tick by faster.

Time was slow but steady, the minutes feeling more like hours as the red of the digital two shifted to a three, then a four, and then, finally, a five.

That was when Lance showed up, five minutes after the bell, with wet hair and little breath left in his lungs. He looked like a drowned cat, but it kind of suited him. “Swim gym,” he gasped, shoving a few wet locks out of his face. Droplets of water slid down his face, accentuating his jaw.

Keith felt his heart skip a few beats in a row. He cleared his throat and nodded.

“Had to run the whole way here,” Lance continued with a huff.

The sides of Keith’s mouth quirked up at the thought of a sopping Lance sprinting halfway across the school. “At least it’s at the end of the day,” Keith mumbled, coughing a bit to cover up the softness of his voice. He wasn’t normally this quiet, really, Lance just … made him nervous.

_‘Shit.’_

Keith broke away from his brain as Lance laughed that high pitched, breathless sound, foreign when paired with the sharp contours his face. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He grinned, elbowing Keith lightly, “Never thought you’d be the one to look at the bright side.”

 _‘I’m not,’_ Keith thought grimly.

“So, what’re we doing again?” he asked, shuffling his bag higher, his eyes anywhere but the boy in front of him.

He started towards the cafeteria, hoping to cut through before the cheerleaders got there first. It was always awkward interrupting their practices, and Keith never really felt like going up and down a few flights of stairs just to leave the building.

Lance followed after, jogging a bit so he stood next to Keith. “Well,” he started, “I’d love to show you all the movies, but that’d take a whole day, which we kinda don’t have, cause, you know,” he shrugged, “school.”

Keith snorted. 

“But!” Lance continued in that lively, lovable way of his, “I can tell you all about them, the movies, I mean, over some milkshakes.”

Keith stopped suddenly, turning to Lance with as neutral an expression he could muster. “I’m lactose intolerant,” he deadpanned. Lance’s smile faltered, and, for a slight second, Keith felt kinda bad for teasing him.

“Oh. I’m, uh, I’m sorry,” Lance muttered, wilting back the slightest bit. It was kinda funny and kinda pitiful. The lovable flirt of AHS, disappointed over the loss of a good milkshake. “We, could, uh, we could try Micky D’s?”

Keith watched Lance’s face drop more and more as he spoke. “Okay,” he managed, “Milkshakes it is.”

Lance looked at him like he was crazy. Keith grinned and stuck out his tongue, nearly missing the pink of Lance’s cheeks as he spoke. I’m, like, eighty percent sure the place you’re talking about has almond milk as an option.”

Lance blinked, realization dawning on him like a sunrise over the beach. “Oh. Oh, right. That’s a thing.”

Keith laughed. Uncultured swine. “Yeah, it’s a thing.”

They were past the cafeteria now, pushing past the doors connecting the school to the outside. He swerved towards the bushes lining the side of the school, reaching in a random one and pulling out his board.

“That,” Lance said, “That is very shady.”

Keith shrugged, “My locker doesn’t fit it.” Lance just stared at him. “Hey, it’s safer than the bike rack.”

“Touché,” the other boy noted.

“So, are we walking or do you have a car?”

Lance grinned, “Wait ‘till you meet Mini.”

* * *

 

Mini, apparently, was short for Mini the Minivan. “Real creative,” Keith mumbled, dumping his board and backpack in the trunk before hopping in the front. He nearly broke his ass sitting on a textbook.

“Sorry about that,” Lance chuckled, grabbing it and throwing it somewhere in the backseat, “It’s a bit of a mess.”

“A bit?” Keith whispered, astounded at the mess. He’d expected stereotypical, messy car, sure, but this – this was unlike anything he’d ever seen. It even rivaled Shiro’s back when he was a kid, and that was nearly impossible by any kind of scientific standard. “This is a bit?” he squeaked, suddenly very, very afraid.

“Hey!” Lance shot him a look. “You will respect Mini while you’re inside her.”

Keith made a face, “That’s … a weird way of putting it.”

“Don’t put it out of context,” Lance snorted.

“I’m not putting it out of context, you are.”

“Says someone who’s putting things outta context.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Thanks, I get that a lot. Now,” he glanced over at Keith with those blue, blue eyes of his, and Keith was gone. “Exactly how much do you know about Star Wars?”

Keith blinked, tearing his eyes away from Lance’s. “Uh … the ‘I am your father’ stuff.”

Lance groaned. “How the hell do you – like how do you even –” he sighed, “Okay, you know what? I can work with that. We can work with this. Alright, so, chronological or release date?”

“What?”

“What order do you want me to go in?” Lance asked, turning the corner into The Shake Place, “The chronological order or the order they were released in?”

“…Were they not released in chronological order?”

“Oh my god,” Lance mumbled, slamming his head down onto the steering wheel, “How? Why? Just – i4rbohgfp+ifbi!” He finished pulling into a spot and sat up, turning to look Keith dead in the eye. “Be straight with me-”

 _‘No can do,’_ Keith thought blandly.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “No … seriously, were they not released in chronological order?” Lance buried his head in his hands. “Honestly, how’s that even possible,” Keith continued, “Shouldn’t they go from first movie to last move or something? Like, what’d they do, have the finale in the first five minutes of the franchise? That’s kinda dumb, don’t you think?”

“Did you live under a rock growing up?” Lance groaned pitifully, voice muffled by his palms.

“No, just in the city.”

Lance sighed, grabbing the keys from the ignition. “Okay, ride’s over. Let’s go, we got some shakes a-waitin’.” Keith rolled his eyes at the over exaggerated accent, but got out of the car anyways.

“Bye Mini!” Lance called, nearly getting hit by a soccer mom as he passed.

Keith gawked as Lance simply turned and shouted a few swears in … was that Spanish? _‘Huh,’_ Keith thought, _‘You’d think that he’d grown up in Galra.’_ He certainly had the yelling down pat, never mind the language.

Lance grinned over at Keith, “People need to learn how to drive,” he said, “am I right?”

“People need to learn how to cross the street,” Keith quipped.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Fuckin’ city rat.”

“Original,” Keith shot back, “Also, what’s that have to do with this situation, again?”

 “Shut your quiznak.”

“…Excuse me?” Keith asked.

“Oh, no,” Lance mocked, getting the door for Keith and heading in behind him, “was that language to foul for your virgin ears?”

“My ears are not virgins,” Keith spat. Lance stopped suddenly, staring at him like he’d grown fuzzy purple ears, claimed to be from an evil empire, and started dancing the Irish jig. “I …” Keith started, mouth opening and closing like a shark without its dentures, “… that sounded much better in my head.”

“I’m sure it did, Sherlock,” Lance mumbled, trying and failing to hide his laughter.

Keith sighed, running a hand through his hair as Lance waltzed right up to the register. Could he even make a bigger idiot out of himself? … Shit, where’s the wood, he needed to knock on some. With the speed of an Olympic sprinter, Keith reached out for the nearest window sill, slapping his knuckles against it.

“Hey-a, Shay,” Lance said, back turned to the whole ordeal. “How you been?”

The cashier – Shay – shrugged, having seen the entire wood-knocking debacle and apparently remaining unfazed. “Been better,” she quipped.

“Pre-Calc?” Lance asked.

“Pre-Calc,” Shay confirmed. The both of them collectively shuddered. “So, what’cha want?” she asked. “The usual?” Lance nodded. “Gotcha, one Quiznak coming right up. And you?”

Keith jolted back to reality, having been watching the whole exchange like a drama. How the hell could two people have such a fluid, spontaneous conversation? It was unnatural. “I, uh, I’ll have a lactose free vanilla,” he mumbled.

Lance whirled on him, eyes wide in disappointment and horror, but mainly just disappointment. “All these choices, all of them, and you choose vanilla? Seriously? Look at the menu, man, look, - we got Altean Mud, we got the Quiznak – a holy shake, truly – we got the Marvin’s Backyard, that one even has gummy worms, and you get vanilla?”

Yeah, mainly just disappointment.

Keith sighed, looking at him, and, without breaking eye contact, said: “I’ll take some Oreo chunks, too.”

Lance tumbled back, clutching his heart like he’d been shot. “I’m wounded, Keith, your decisions wound me.” He glanced up, and choked back on a fake sob, “Wounded.”

Keith sucked in a breath, then promptly shut his lungs because was this worth it? Not really. “I’m finding us a table,” he grumbled, stalking off.

“Wait, so I’m paying for yours?!”

Keith turned. “Uh, yeah.”

“Wha – gold digger!” Lance shouted.

Keith held back a snort, ignoring Lance’s protests as he went for a spot in the far corner. It wasn’t like anyone else was really inside, but Keith always felt safest with his back to a wall. It was kind of weird, but after years of guarding your back in the rough parts of town it was easier just to sit against a wall and relax.

Lance trudged over him a bit later, pulling up the seat closest to the window.

Keith watched as his pulled off his hoodie, twisting to throw it over the back of his chair. His shirt sat low on his shoulder, revealing an expanse of neck and collarbone. Keith quickly found himself staring.

“So, where do you wanna start?” Lance asked, turning back around and shooting him a grin. Keith could hear the angels singing ‘gayyyyyyyy’ in his head.

Keith blinked, shaking himself out of his stupor. “Uh, how about we do characters then plot?”

Lance quirked an eyebrow. “Aren’t the characters what leads the plot?”

Keith threw up his arms. “I dunno, I’ve never really gotten a lecture on movies.”

“Same here,” Lance laughed, “you’re my first.” He winked at the end, and Keith spontaneously combusted, mind short circuiting because wow. Wow. Okay. All those girlfriends suddenly made sense a whole lot more sense.

‘No wonder he managed to woo the quarterback,’ Keith thought absentmindedly.

“So, I guess I’ll just talk about a character and explain what they did,” Lance hummed, “You good with that?”

“Sure.”

He grinned, leaning forwards onto his palms. “Alright! So, let’s start with Anakin Skywalker.”

“…Ani-who now?”

By the time the shakes came, which was promptly five minutes later, Keith was more confused then he’d ever be in his entire life. Lance had barely gone through a single character and Keith was still trying to remember the guy’s name.

“Wait, wait, so he’s how old now?” Keith asked, still grasping for straws.

“Nine – thanks, Shay.” Lance quickly grabbed their shakes, handing Keith his vanilla and a spoon. Keith quickly thanked him, staring down at the classic, red and white striped straw that’d practically been consumed by whipped cream.

He glanced over to Lance’s – the Quiznak, whatever that was – and nearly barfed. There was cookie dough balls and Reese’s Cups and candied worms galore. It looked like a child’s stomach after Halloween, and it did nothing to Keith’s appetite.

“Are you sure he’s nine?” Keith mumbled around a spoon of whipped cream. “Doesn’t he, you know, blow up planets in a movie or two?”

Lance’s jaw dropped, a half-chewed cookie dough ball dropping back onto his shake. Keith gagged. So much for a composed beauty. “You said you didn’t know anything about Star Wars!” he blurted.

“I know small things,” Keith grumbled, still disgusted by the mushed-up cookie dough, “Like how Darth Vader is Luke’s dad and how Han Suli dies in the new movie.”

“Han Solo,” Lance groaned, “His name is Han Solo.”

“Was,” Keith mumbled, thinking back to all the spoilers that’d flooded the internet when the new movie came out. “It _was_ his name.”

“Shut your quiznak,” Lance gasped.

“You know,” Keith said, voice dripping dryly, “I still don’t think you’re using that word correctly.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “I am, trust me. Like I said, the word’s sacred around here. Everyone used it. Somebody even wrote it in one a’ the hallways at Garrison.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, "You went to Garrison?"

Something flashed in Lances eyes that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Lance nodded, "Y-Yeah, I, uh, yeah, I went to Garrison. Go Galaxies!" He half-heartedly pumped his fist, a lazy smile forced on his face.

Keith hummed, playing with his straw a bit. The school has been pretty big, maybe he just didn't know Lance. "Huh. Didn't recognize you. We probably didn't have any classes together."

Lance choked on his shake. "I ... I guess,” he admitted, “Probably not.”

Keith nodded, wary to the sudden mood change. “Okay. …But I’m still convinced this Obi Wan guy that trained him is a spy.”

Lance threw his arms up in exasperation. “Whatever, it’s stupid.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Not.”

“Too.”

“Not.”

“Not.”

“Not. And nice try on the reverse phycology.”

“Ugh!”

* * *

 

Weirdly enough, Keith found himself spending more and more time with Lance. It’d been a month since the skate park, and Keith found himself frequenting The Shake Place with Lance nearly every other day.

They’d long since moved on from Star Wars, Keith having found time to watch the movies on his own. Of course, his Obi Wan theory was proven wrong, and along with that defeat came a slew of ‘I told you so’s from Lance, none of which were truly welcome. Lance then introduced Keith to the Marvel franchise, which Keith soon latched onto – you could pry Cap from his cold, dead hands.

They’d bonded of a mutual attraction towards Sebastian Stan, but Keith’s constant jokes about Bucky and his foster brother were what really sealed the deal. (“I swear upon my GPA, Lance - my GPA! - they have the same arm – don’t you dare laugh, it’s a goddamn replica!”)

Safe to stay, Shiro officially became the butt of their jokes, Lance often calling out to Keith in the hallways with some random, Shiro-related memes he’d found on his phone earlier in the day.

It wasn’t the best relationship, seeing as they didn’t talk much other than characters and conspiracies, but Keith got to learn more about Lance through their little chit chats between rants.

He found Lance was the middle child, his four older siblings off in college and the other three barely in the sixth grade. He talked about Maria a lot, she was his blatant favorite, as well as his grandparents back in Cuba.

Then, of course, he’d ask about Keith’s family and … Well, Keith would just shut down. He always felt bad afterwards, honestly. Lance was just so open about life; he spoke freely and honestly but Keith … he just stuck with a simple ‘I only have Shiro.’

But, save for those random, deep, conversations and the Marvel based exchanges, they didn’t really speak about much save for Keith’s bland taste in milkshakes or if Lance should use a filter on a certain print.

And so, the month flew by, and soon Keith couldn’t really remember a day when he hadn’t tagged along with Lance to fetch a drink from The Shake Place.

The moments seemed to blur together, and even though it hadn’t been that long ago, he just couldn’t point out a time where he hadn’t had Lance in his life. There were just fragments of memories without him, but there was just a distinct before and after, but the before was becoming more and more hazy.

And that, that was the worrisome part.

* * *

 

“The beach?” Keith asked, dumping his camera on the table and pulling up a chair.

Coran was off in the corner, near the ‘portrait station,’ chatting it up with some kid who’d brought in a light meter, so Keith would probably just have but in a little late to tell the instructor he was here. He glanced back, wincing at the sight of Coran as practically drooling as he held the meter, examining all the dials and buttons like it was a newly discovered species. The kid he was with looked mortified.

Or, Keith decided, maybe he’d just pop by at the end of class when Coran was looking less and less like a leprechaun frothing over a new pile of gold.

Lance grinned, scooting closer to Keith as he spoke.

The girl he and Hunk had sat with ended up dropping the course after a stress induced heart attack or something, and Lance had taken that as a sign to overthrow Keith’s rule over his ‘loner table,’ as Lance had put it.

“Yeah,” Lance said, “we could go, just the two of us.”

Keith glanced over to Hunk. “Just us?”

“Yeah,” Lance drawled, waggling his eyebrows at Hunk.

The said boy scoffed, crossing his arms and jutting his chin in the opposite direction of Lance. Keith snorted.

“Hunk’s busy with his girlfriend-” Lance continued, only to be interrupted as Hunk broke away from his brooding pose, face red as he barked out that Shay was not, in fact, his ‘girlfriend.’

“She’s just, you know,” he grumbled, blushing, “a girl friend, with a space in between. You know, a friend that just happens to be a girl. You know, just a …”

Lance clicked his tongue, “You used too many ‘you knows’ to make that believable, Hunky boy,” he chastised, winking over at Keith when Hunk threw his hands up in the air dramatically.

“Lance, she is not my girlfriend!”

Lance looked at Hunk, then to Keith, as if to say ‘oh this boy, do you see how pitiful he is? He’s in the denial stage of crushes, you know, such a sad time in his life.’ Lance grinned at his best friend, eyes soft in pity as he said, dryly, “Oh, honey, I beg to differ.”

Keith, finally deciding to partake in the marvelous activity that was teasing one’s friend, just smiled, resting his chin on his hand. “Who’s he dating?” he asked.

“Shay.”

Keith blinked. Wait? “Shake Shay?” he clarified.

“Yup,” Lance confirmed, popping the ‘p’ in that weird way of his.

“No. No. No no no,” Hunk protested, his arms turning to signaling sticks as he waved them around, akin to a breakdancing traffic cop. “I am not dating Shay. We’re just … friends.”

“Oh, really now?” Lance’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, “How long are you gonna say that you’re ‘just friends?’ Huh? Do you have any idea how many dates you two have been on? Any idea?”

Hunk opened his mouth, but Lance cut him off. “Twenty-seven,” he said, “I’ve counted. Unless you count that one day as two dates, cause technically you dropped her off then picked her up again, so if that makes it twenty-eight.”

Hunk frowned, “You’ve counted?”

“You didn’t?” he countered, still grinning, borderline Cheshire grin of his, snickering, as if he was some two-bit villain from a Disney special. Hunk dragged his palms over his face with a groan, obviously at wits end.

“You,” he started, “You counted how many times I went on a date with Shay?”

Lance gave an ‘a-ha’ pointing a finger rudely at Hunk as he danced in his seat. “So, you admit that you did go on dates with her?”

Hunk slammed his head onto the desk, groaning hard. Keith smiled down at him, finding all of this better than anything he could possibly imagine, even watching Shiro try to flirt with his partner … Actually, that was still pretty good, too.

“Keith, please, help me here,” Hunk grumbled.

Keith raised an eyebrow, “But watching is fun.”

“Yeah, Hunk,” Lance added, “Watching is fun.” Hunk smacked his head onto the desk again as Lance kept going.

“You know, you really should just get the courage to ask Shay out. You’ve like her since, what, freshman year? That’s an reeaaallllyyyyy long time. And have you done anything? Besides taking her on dates, I mean.” He glanced at Keith. “Do dates count as already dating?”

Keith shrugged.

Hunk glared, sitting up straight suddenly and grabbing for his phone.

“Oh, so I’ve been going after Shay for a long time? So I’ve done nothing but take her out on dates?” He tapped a few things on his screen. “Then why don’t I just, I don’t know, show Keith over here these messages from last night about who much you like hi-”

Lance leapt from his chair, throwing his entire upper body across the table as he reached for Hunk’s cell, face burning ready. Keith jumped back, his chair tipping over as he nearly slammed into the floor.

“Don’t even!” Lance cried, grasping for Hunk’s phone. Hunk raised it high above his head, just out of Lance’s reach.

“You’re a hypocrite,” Hunk laughed, “Admit it!”

“Yeah,” Lance pouted, stretching even further in attempts of getting the phone, “Well everyone makes you out to be sweeter than you are, so being a hypocrite isn’t even that bad – now give me the goddamn phone!”

Hunk rolled his eyes, retracting his phone and tossing it back in his bag.

Keith steadied himself, grabbing onto the edge of the table and pulling his chair back onto its legs. “Okay,” he grumbled, “Awkward whatever thing over, are we still going to the beach or what?”

Lance brightened, “Oh, yeah, that,” he sat back down, turning slightly towards the front of the room as Coran got up to give a quick lecture on light and angles, “How ‘bout we meet here Saturday, around noon or so?”

Keith nodded, “Okay, see you then?”

“It’s a date!”

* * *

 

Apparently, Lance had a ‘secret beach spot’ no one else knew about, not even the lifeguards, who were pretty much just some half assed teens certified in CPR. Never mind that, though, Keith honestly doubted wherever Lance was taking him was a true ‘secret spot.’

“This is literally the one thing the town has running for it,” he protested, “Everyone goes there, like, daily, there’s no ‘secret spots.’”

Lance pouted. Keith sighed continuing, “It’s simply not possible, Lance. There’s, what, a thousand people here? And there’s only one beach? Not to mention the people from Arus come over all the time, too.”

“You’re just a non-believer,” Lance grumbled.

“Of what?” Keith scoffed, “Secluded areas on the one beach for miles? There’s gonna be tons of people there.”

“It’s the end of May, of course there won’t be.”

“It’s, like, eighty out, so of course there will be.”

“Do you have to challenge everything I say?”

“I don’t know, do you have to make it so easy?”

Lance threw his hands up exasperation, “I give up.” Keith snorted. “Don’t make fun of me! You’re so cruel, I swear. How does Hunk even deal with you?”

Keith rolled his eyes, shifting the shakeboard under his arm a little higher. “He doesn’t really have to deal with much. I don’t talk constantly, unlike some people.”

“Ow. That hurt.”

“It was supposed to.”

“You’re a mean, vile person,” Lance said, “You know that, right?” Keith hummed, looking around innocently. Lance laughed.

They stopped at an intersection, waiting for cars to pass. Keith felt a prickle on his neck, like he was being watched, and turned, eyes scanning for whoever who being a little creep. He locked sights with a girl standing next to them, head turned at an obvious angle so she could stare.

She had on a pair of tight fitting jeans and a crop top, her hair pulled back into an elaborate braid. That wound around her head, akin to the ones evil queens wore in the movies. Sunglasses sat perched on the top of her hairline, reflecting the cloudy sky.

Keith decided he didn’t like her one bit.

She cleared her throat suddenly, and Lance jolted, stopping mid-ramble about Bucky Barnes to whirl around. She giggled, holding a hand to her chest and giggling like an idiot. “Oh, hi, Lance.”

He stiffened, “Hello, Nyma,” he greeted, tone sharp, “It’s nice to see you.”

She smiled. “We both know that’s a lie.”

“Yeah, well my mom taught me to be nice,” he snapped, “so I’m gonna lie if I have to.”

Nyma’s grin was deadly, her teeth bared. Keith thought she looked like a shark, ready to eat someone whole. “That says a lot about a man,” she quipped.

Keith glanced between the two, mind whirling at a million miles an hour. He knew her? _She_ knew him? His eyes flicked back and forth, taking in the stiffness of Lance’s legs and the sly smirk of Nyma’s smile. Keith knew it didn’t matter to him, but it tore at his chest, raking jagged lines through his lungs. It hurt. It physically _hurt_.

When had he suddenly stated caring about Lance’s love life?

Nyma turned on him, lips curled up in an unnatural smile. “And who’s this?” she purred, stepping forwards. For a second Keith contemplating blurting ‘gay’ as an answer, but Lance beat him to it, stepping forwards so as to draw Nyma’s attention towards him.

“None of your business,” he spat, “Do you need anything? Or can you leave?”

Nyma’s smile just turned wider, splitting her face like a possessed doll. “Oh,” she hummed, “I see. Protective, aren’t we?” She fluttered her lashes again, and suddenly each individual lash looked like a deadly knife to Keith. She looked pointedly at Lance, then to Keith.

“Be careful of him,” she advised, “I wouldn’t trust him with,” she gave Lance a quick once over, “Well, anything, really.”

Lance scowled, opening his mouth to retort, only for Nyma to smile again, turning around and heading for the local coffee shop down the street. Traffic cleared, and Lance crossed the road, Keith following numbly behind him.

His mind ran through the last few years of school, re-counting how many girlfriends Lance’s had, remembering how many boys he’d taken on dates and how many people he’d flirted with and just how cheesily charming he was.

He fit all the standards of a player, Keith realized suddenly, mind screeching to a complete halt. He had the looks and the attitude and the multitude of ex’s, not to mention his flirtatious mannerisms.

Keith swallowed around thin air, glancing over to Lance, who was still unusually quiet. A few moments passed before the boy spoke again. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, “She’s kind of … crazy?”

“She seemed sane enough,” Keith mumbled.

“Well, she’s high half the time so…”

Keith whipped his head up, “She’s what?”

Lance shook his head. “This town isn’t as sweet as you think. We got addicts out the yin-yang, you just don’t notice them.” He sighed. “Nyma’s drug problem was why I broke up with her. You could probably tell she’s not the … best to be around when she’s like that.”

Keith nodded in understanding.

It made sense, it really did, but something inside Keith wasn’t really satisfied. It wanted to know more, to find out what Lance was really like. He couldn’t be a happy goof all the time, he could be kind and honest every single day of his life. He was bound to have broken hearts, to have hurt others, to have destroyed relationships.

The idea of a cruel Lance hit Keith like a truck, rushing over his brain like a shock of cold water. He tried to shake it away, tried to dry it up like a puddle in the desert, but it just soaked further into his head, swirling around and around until all Keith could think about was Lance’s betrayal.

He blinked away the fog lying over his brain, forcing himself to push it aside. “Were most of your girlfriends like that?” he asked.

Lance shrugged, “Not really. Though I did have a boyfriend with a drinking problem back in sophomore year. He was a bit of a jerk.”

Keith pursed his lips. “Did you break up with him?” Of course, bring up the topic again, you’re such a smart boy Keith. A+ for you.

“Nah,” Lance sighed out, the end breaking off into the wind like a breath of relief, “he moved; I didn’t really have to.”

 Keith nodded again, walking along in line with him, the conversation between them fading own to non-existent.

“Okay, okay,” Lance said, “Let’s talk family. I know you have a brother, right?”

Keith smiled. Alright, that was a relatively safe topic, as long as he didn’t talk about his parents. Most of the time that just lead to a pity fest. “Yeah,” he drawled, “His name’s Shiro. He’s a cop.”

Technically, he was _the_ cop, considering everyone else on the police force in town sat at a desk all day filing complains about untrimmed trees and fences that were blocking their view. Shiro disagreed, he thought the others did a lot of work, but, in reality, it really was just him and his partner, a woman with unnaturally natural silver hair.

Keith had met her once, when she’d stopped by to return Shiro’s phone, since he’d left it at the desk. He didn’t mind her; she was nice.

Lance hummed, “Does that mean I have to call him sir or something?” he asked, grinning jokingly as he shoving lightly at Keith’s arm. Keith shoved back and Lance just pretended to swoon like the drama queen he was. “Has he background checked me yet?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Why would he background check you?”

“’Cause that’s what cops do?” Lance suggested, waggling his eyebrows, “Come on, you know he would.”

“He already has,” Keith said. Lance gasped, glancing around like there were suddenly camera’s everywhere. “Not you, idiot,” he huffed, “Just his partner’s boyfriend. And that was one time.” Lance raised an eyebrow.

“…I think,” Keith added, “I only really found out then ‘cause he was complaining about the one time the guy got pulled over for speeding or something.”

“Are you sure he hasn’t background checked me yet?” Lance asked, “’Cause I feel like he would have, hearing that just now.”

“For the millionth time, Lance, he hasn’t background checked you,” Keith groaned. Lance mumbled something about it only being the second time, not the millionth, and Keith stomped in the direction of Lance’s foot. The boy yelped, jumping away from Keith.

“He has no reason to,” Keith continued, “I mean, we’re not dating or anything.” He paused. Shit. “Not like I’d date you or are anything, I mean, I’m not, I wouldn’t go out with a friend-”

“Don’t most people end up dating friends, though?” Lance butted in, “Like, how else do you date a person. Timber?” Keith snorted. “I mean, sure, there’s always those people who go up to someone and ask then out and somehow end up getting married or whatever, but don’t people just, I dunno, hang out with a person and get to know them before dating them?”

“Maybe in the suburbs?” Keith tried.

Lance rolled his eyes, blindly smacking at the general area of Keith’s head. “Fuckin’ city rat,” he grumbled.

Keith just stared up at the sky, as if to say ‘why me?’ “Alright, you’re turn,” he huffed out as Lance suddenly turned a sharp corner, cutting through the trees lining the beach and starting to descend down what looked like a, only slightly, newly worn path.

Keith raised an eyebrow but didn’t question the boy. “What about your family?”

“Well,” Lance sighed, stepping over what looked like a decade old crushed coke can, “You’ve met my mom and Maria. She’s the youngest, by the way. She has a twin brother, Joseph; he’s a bit of a trouble maker.

“Worse than you?” Keith asked, smiling fondly.

Lance flicked him off. “I’m ignoring that,” he grumbled, “Anyways, besides them and me I have two older sisters. Nicte and Sophia.” He laughed. “Nicte’s the oldest, she’s married, has two kids. Sophia’s expecting, too, so it’s gonna be a bit of a full house when they visit.” He paused. “Well, not like it already isn’t, but…”

“That sounds nice,” Keith commented.

Lance huffed, turning around slightly to hold a branch out of Keith’s way. They stumbled onto sand suddenly, and Keith looked around, shocked. He hadn’t seen this part of the beach before, it didn’t have fifty million towels laid out or random pink pales of sand stuck in the dirt like a half sunken ship.

Keith turned, suddenly noticing a stone wall, maybe four feet tall or so and looking a little too wobbly for Keith’s liking. He blinked. Was this the restricted section of the beach? He glanced at Lance, who continued to blabble on about his family.

Oh, so that’s why it was a secret.

Keith sighed, shaking his head. No wonder Lance was worried about background checks, he’d probably been trespassing regularly for years.

“What’s funny is that my mom is from Cuba but my dad is from Mexico,” Lance continued, rambling now. Keith assumed he wouldn’t really be stopping any time soon. “So, there’s two kinda different cultures, plus they both speak slightly different kinds of Spanish, so I grew up knowing two different dialects plus ‘correct version,’ as my Spanish teacher puts it.”

He scoffed at the end of that, rolling his eyes.

"Isn't this technically illegal?" Keith interrupted, smiling hesitantly as Lance turned around, a Grinch-like look on his face. "I mean,” he continued, “isn't this private property or something?"

Lance rolled his eyes, holding his arms up as if to gesture to basically everything around him. "Technically," he mocked, smiling wide enough to force away any worries Keith had, "it's _government_ property."

"That's still illegal," Keith hummed.

"Oh whatever,” Lance huffed, flopping down on the sand and yanking his Converse off, “Now get over here and take your shoes off. Trust me, sand in your feet isn’t fun.” Keith just stared at him. “Come on, dude, it’s not like I’m telling you to strip.”

Keith just blinked at him, trudging forwards and sitting down to take his own shoes off. “So, what are we even doing?” he asked.

Lance was the one who’d invited him here, he must’ve had some kind of plan when he asked Keith if he wanted to come with…

Lance shrugged, “I dunno. Fool around?”

…Or not.

Keith sighed, glancing out towards the water.

Technically, it wasn’t really a beach, seeing as Altea wasn’t on a coast. The ‘ocean’ was actually just one of the great lakes, but Keith had never actually seen the sea, so this was about as close to an endless expanse of ocean as he could get at this point.

He glanced around, following the lines of the beach until they taper off into thin strips.

He could see Galra off to the side, lining the shore with its towering buildings and black smog. He vaguely remembered standing near the city's shoreline, staring at all small towns that bordered the lake, with their tiny little lights and specs he could barely make out from all the way across the water.

When he was younger, his parents told him they were magic, settlements that wizards or fairies lived in. It was stupid, but it kept him interested, and everyone knew what happened to kids that were bored in the city.

“Hey.”

Lance’s voice broke Keith from his thoughts, bringing him back to the small town of Alta and its beach. He turned, raising an eyebrow in a silent question of Lance’s outburst. The said boy smiled, dropping to the ground and pressing his hands in the wet sand.

“How about we make sandcastles?” he asked, pulling back from the handprints he’d made.

Keith stared down at them, quirking his mouth up in a questioning look. He followed in lance’s footsteps and shot down, squishing his nose up as he dug his hands in the sand. "Can we even make a sandcastle with this?” he inquired. “We don't have a pail or anything."

Lance shrugged, "We'll make do," he said. Keith raised a hesitant eyebrow, and Lance sighed, nudging his shoulder before scooping up some sand and patting it into a ball. He held it up in front of Keith's face, wiggling it obnoxiously.

"Here. Inspiration."

"It's a ball of sand," Keith deadpanned.

Lance gasped, holding it closer to his chest, "It's not a ball of sand," he exclaimed, "it's a sandball, Keith, a sandball."

Keith just stared at him. Lance just stared back. Keith threw up his hands. "Okay, whatever, let's do this shit."

Lance squealed, scooping up an even bigger chunk of sand and glopping it onto the sandball. "We can make a sandman," he said, "you know, like a snowman, but with sand? We can call him Sandy the Sandman and he'll save Christmas." He glanced up at Keith, grinning, "it'll be like Christmas in July come early."

"So basically a belated Christmas?" Keith asked, watching as Lance tried and failed to roll out a ball.

He glared at the sand for a few seconds before rolling his eyes, as if he'd only just thought to answer Keith's question. "Don't rain on my parade," he mumbled, staring at the sand as if it was a Pre-Calc project. "fuckin' city rat."

Keith laughed and tried to make a ball of his own, only for the sand to fall apart between his fingers. Lance snorted, "You gotta compact it, compact."

"How do you even compact?" Keith grumbled, trying and failing to press the sand together. He groaned as it fell apart again.

Lance just laughed, pressing more sand into Sandy the Sandman's side in order to build up the ball. Sadly, he 'compacted' a little too much, a big chunk falling if the side of Sandy's butt. Lance frowned. "Oh quiznak!"

Keith snorted. "I still don't think you're using that word correctly."

"I still don't think you're using that word correctly," Lance mocked, pressing more sand together to form the lower ball of the sandman; it wasn't very spherical, but it made due.

Keith scoffed, "I don't talk like that."

"I don't talk like that," Lance mimicked pitching his voice even higher than before.

"Lance," Keith scowled.

He batted his eyelashes. "Lan - pffftgsksjwbsuwhwuednbs!!" Lance sputtered as a glob of wet sand slid down his face. He grabbed at his mouth, trying to pull away the grainy chunks before they got in his tongue. "Ugh," he gagged, wiping the sand off his face.

Keith watched, totally and utterly amused, as Lance spat and sputtered, pawing at his face in disgust. He couldn't help it; he giggled.

Lance's head shot up, eyes making contact with Keith.

Aw shit. He scrambled to his feet, sprinting towards the slightly lapping waves in hopes of not getting killed.

"Get back here you little shit!" Lance yelled, his voice breaking with giggles at the end. Keith just glanced over his shoulder, blowing Lance a raspberry as he waded in, the water covering his knees. "Jackass!"

Keith laughed, his breath bursting from his lungs as Lance suddenly tackled him from behind. They both went down, water crashing over them as Lance dunked him, both of them crashing into the seabed. Keith sputtered, watching bubbles streamline up and he pushed himself off the ground and headed for air.

Lance surfaced after him, laughing as he shook his head, spraying droplets of water everywhere. Keith shrieked, ducking under the surface to escape the torrent of liquid. When he surfaced, Lance was just kind of looking at him. A beat passed, then:

“Pffft! Come on, dude, seriously? You’re already wet, what’s the big deal?”

And who’s fault was it that he was wet in the first place? “The deal,” Keith grumbled, brushing his sopping hair out of his face, “is that you’re shaking like a freakin’ dog, and getting sprayed with water isn’t particularly fun for me.”

“Yeah, well getting a sandball to the face isn’t enjoyable either.” A grin stretched across Lance’s face. “So you don’t like getting splashed, huh?”

Keith’s eyes went wide. “No. Lance no!”

But it was too late, Lance had already lunged forwards, grabbing Keith by the waist and tugging him under once again. The boy barely had any time to hold his breath before he was consumed by the ocean. He thrashed around, eyes squinting around the salty water suddenly surrounding him.

Lance just tightened his hold on Keith’s waist, holding him closer in order to prevent escape as Keith squirmed harder, trying to break free.

He couldn’t hold his breath much longer; his lungs ached with the need to exhale. He hadn’t had that much to begin with, seeing as he’d only gasped in a small amount before he’d been so rudely yanked under.

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, burying his nose in Lance’s neck and winding his arms around his shoulders, holding tight for dear life. This was feeling like less of a dunk and more of a roller coaster ride as every second passed.

Lance’s grip slackened a bit. Keith took his chance to break free, breaching the surface with a gasp and a sputter and a “Fuck you!” The taller boy just laughed. Keith watched as his shoulders rose with each giggle, heat flooding his cheeks.

“Sorry!” Lance said, breaking Keith from his ogling. “Did I hold you down too long?”

Keith huffed in a breath, chest heaving up and down. “No, I just … didn’t have enough air.” It wasn’t a lie.

Lance rolled his eyes, staring up at the sky in exasperation like the drama queen he was. “That’s what I said,” he sighed.

“No,” Keith grumbled, “It’s not.”

Lance grinned, “Oh, I see. My strikingly good looks took your breath away. Mm-hmm. Yup, perfectly understandable.”

Keith went red, sputtering in protest.

“W-What?!” he snapped, stepping forwards and shoving a finger into Lance’s chest. “You are insufferable; you hear me? In-suf-fer-a-ble. You’re cute and I couldn’t breathe, but that doesn’t mean one affected the other. How did that even get into your head, you egotistical maniac? I… I…”

His eyes blew wide in realization, and he sunk down into the water, the surface lapping at his shoulders as he tried to hide the full body blush he’d started sporting. Keith peeked up at Lance, who was just kind of staring down at him in shock.

“You think I’m cute?” Lance asked, voice quiet.

Keith felt his face burst into flames. “No!” he sputtered, quite literally, hacking as sea water flooded his mouth.

“But you just said I was,” Lance pushed, shoving himself closer to Keith.

“No, I didn’t,” Keith squeaked.

“Yes,” Lance said, a grin spreading across his face, “Yes, you did.”

Keith opened his mouth to protest, only to shut it not even a millisecond later. There was only one way out of this. ‘Shiro’s gonna be so proud,’ he thought, lasing out with his legs to kick Lance hard in the crotch. The boy dropped, doubling over with a cry of pain. Keith, merciless, merciless Keith, simply swiped Lance’s feet out from under him. The boy went down with a yelp, water gurgling where his head used to be.

He was gone before Lance’s hair was even submerged, grateful at the fact that both of them had decided to stay relatively close to shore.

He swam like his life depended on it and, after what seemed like forever, made it to the sand, scooping up his shirt on the way towards his board. He was just about to grab that, too, when something slammed into him from behind.

Keith gave a short cry of surprise as he was tackled into the ground.

“What the hell, dude?” Lance growled. He sat on Keith’s chest, effortlessly pinning him down. “You could’ve killed me.”

“You didn’t die,” Keith huffed, glaring up at the boy. “Now let me go.”

“No,” Lance huffed, “I don’t feel like it. I don’t wanna.” He waggled his eyebrows, “Not until you admit you said I was hot.”

“I said you were cute, jackass, and -” God fucking damn it, his mouth hated him today.

Lance grinned down at him.

Keith sighed. “Whoop-de-do,” he snapped, face hot, “So I think you’re cute, it’s not like it’s nothing new. The whole grade has practically had a crush on you at some point, it’s no big deal.”

Lance’s grin grew bigger, cleaving a chunk out of his face, “Yeah, but I haven’t heard it from a crush.” Keith blinked. Wait, what? “Guess you’re the first.”

And then he was leaning down, lips ghosting over Keith’s in something that could barely be considered contact. And Keith was fine with that, the contact was brief and Lance was pulling away before even a second had passed.

The kiss was a joke, something a six-year-old would give to his crush on Valentine’s Day. It had no meaning to Lance, Keith told himself, no meaning at all, a friendly gesture or whatever. Even so, it left Keith red as tomato, electricity running through his bones as if they were made of metal. And Lance was the storm cloud.

Lance pulled back, staring at Keith with hazy eyes. “Are you done?” Keith asked, voice cracking. Maybe it was from the embarrassment or maybe it was from the disappointment, he couldn’t really tell.

Lance stared down at him, eyes akin to a storm. “No.”

Suddenly, his lips were on Keith’s again, pressing harder, moving faster, mouth working triple the magic it had before. The charge built between them, static whirling to life as Keith, to his own minds confusion, kissed Lance back, winding his arms around Lance’s neck.

He saw stars, comets, meteors, anything and everything that laced the sky on a breathless night. They all graced his presence, rushing along his skin, through his veins, up and down his mouth, where they connected with the space dust pouring from Lance’s lips.

There he was, wet sand plastered to his back, clothes sopping wet, hair heavy with water as the boy of his dreams lay above him and kissed him senseless. He could stay this way forever, lost in the serenity, the warmth. He didn’t want to move.

But then Lance’s hands were trailing their way from Keith’s shoulders towards his chest, and, in a sudden rush of clear mindedness, Keith did, in fact, break away.

‘Be careful of him.’

Lance watched him, eyes flickering as he tried to focus. His cheeks were tinted and his chest was heaving like he’d just finished the pacer. He looked amazing, and it was all Keith could do not to just pull him back down, because kissing him just felt right, no matter how corny, how stupid, how obsessed that sounded, because it just did.

Keith sucked in a breath, mustering up what little sense of right he had, and pushed Lance off of him. Lance’s eyebrows furrowed, his entire face crinkling together in confusion. “Keith?” he asked, sitting up, “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” Keith sputtered, shoving Lance even further away as he scrambled out from under him, “I’m sorry, I – this was a mistake, I can’t – I have to go.”

“Wait, what?” Lance asked, still neck deep in the moment, obviously having no idea what was going on.

Keith glanced behind him for a second, and the look in Lance’s eyes a good enough source for the sudden pain in his chest. The expression on his face was shattered, miming that of a puppy who’d just been thrown out onto the streets. Keith bit his lip and rushed for his shirt, tugging the material on. He jumped into his shoes, tying them as quickly as possible.

Lance got to his feet, stumbling after the skater. “Keith?” He went to reach out towards Keith, but Keith just smacked his hand away, grabbing his board and heading roughly for where he remembered the path was.

“I have to go,” he said, glancing back, at Lance. He looked shocked, scared even, eyebrows draw together in confusion as he followed after Keith.

“You said that alrea –,” he broke himself off once he noticed where the boy was heading, “Wait, Keith, wait, please, I -”

But Keith was already gone, sprinting up the dirt, nearly slipping more than a few times before he onto solid land. By the time Lance got to him he’d already thrown down his board, skating away at the speed of light.

The wind ripped through his hair as he sped down the street, turning onto the sidewalk and zipping past random pedestrians.

Shit. Shit. Shit shit shit.

What’d he done?

* * *

 He made it to his house in record time, kicking his board into the garage angrily and storming up the stairs to his room.

“Keith,” Shiro called, “Are you home?”

He responded with a slam of his door. He trudged to his bed, staring at it for a bit before sitting down slowly and cradling his head in his hands. ‘You made the right decision,’ he thought, ‘You made the right decision, you made the right …’

Keith sighed, digging his palms into his eyes.

* * *

 It was all Lance’s fault, Keith decided. Lance and his stupid smile and his stupid laugh and his stupid lips. Keith tried, and failed, to shake the blush off his face, forcing anger to wash over the embarrassment. Lance was playing with him, he decided, he played with everyone. 

This wasn’t anything new, he wasn’t anything new.

“Get over it,” he grumbled, “Get over it, get over it, get over it.”

* * *

 They ran into each other in the halls on Monday.

It was awkward, to say the least. Lance looked like he’d been hit by a ton of bricks, pushing through the crowd, obviously wanting to get to Keith, to explain what happened – like it needed explaining. Keith, on the other hand, flipped his shit, grabbing a random freshman and shoving them towards Lance before high tailing it to trig.

But it wasn’t like he actually got much done, his mind focusing more on lancelancelancelancelance than actual numbers. He managed to get through it, but not without embarrassing himself at least ten times when the teacher called on him - most likely deliberate, Sendak was an ass.

He somehow made it past his next two classes, but only because one was, and the one reason he managed to stay sane during it was because Haggar lit the floor on fire like the maniac she was.

Sadly, not even the spark of pyromania in Haggar’s eyes could lift Keith’s spirits.

By the time photos rolled around, Keith just decided to skip – which kind of sucked, since Coran had scheduled a free day and he’d been looking forward to playing around with the enlargers.

He slipped into a random full hour study hall and staked his claim at a back table. He got his English homework done and tried to start on a rough charcoal sketch for 2D, but once the random figure started taking a familiar, Lance like shape, Keith slammed his sketchbook shut and shoved it in his bag.

The bell rang a few minutes later, a wave of students flooding the halls. And then Keith just ditched altogether, skimming pat the thoughts of Shiro and murder as he skated towards the park, hoping to clear his mind.

Turns out fate didn’t exactly like him screwing around with it.

Keith jumped as his phone buzzed.

 _hey, its lance. hunk gave me ur number. i just wanted 2 say i_ … **read more**

His stomach did swan dives, backflips, somersaults, everything connected to cheesy romance stories that Keith hated with a burning passion and – oh god. Nope. Nopenopenopenope. He was not going to fangirl over Lance texting him.

That was beneath him. He was a grown man – not – and he would not give in to this stupid, silly, intoxicating crush.

Keith glanced back down at the text, feeling his cheeks heat as his heart skipped. He scowled, swiping to get the message off his screen. He shoved his phone in his pocket and made a wide turn, heading for home.

There went his plans of fooling around. Knowing Lance, idiot would probably try and find him. Which meant Keith had to hole himself up somewhere Lance couldn’t find him: his room.

His phone buzzed again and, like the stupid person he was, Keith checked it out of habit.

k _eith_

It was Lance. Goddamn it. Before Keith could even lock his screen his phone vibrated a third time.

_im sorry_

Bing

_i shuldnt have dun that_

Bing

_if u want to talk im here_

Bing

_i rlly am sorry_

Bing

_keith_

* * *

 Shiro was pissed, to say the least.

“Fourth hour,” he snapped, throwing the groceries away with a little too much force. Keith winced as the bananas nearly impaled themselves in the bread. “You made it to fourth hour. Do you have any idea how stupid that was of you?! If you wanted to skip, you should’ve just not gone. Then I could’ve called you in sick. Now I’m getting calls about truancy, Keith. Truancy. You could be suspended.”

“Sorry.”

“No. You’re not sorry, Keith, you never really mean it when you say that kind of stuff.”

“When do I ever have anything to be sorry for?” Keith grumbled, “I’m not what you’re making me out to be. I have honors classes, I get straight A’s, I never go to parties, I’ve never smoked a joint in my life. Stop acting like I’m some drop out.”

“Then stop being one! I don’t care about the skating, I don’t care about the friends – and don’t think I don’t know about Rolo. I’ve busted his parties enough times to know what kind of kid -”

“Since when did you care about the people I hang out with?” Keith interrupted.

“Since you ditched!” Shiro screamed, slamming his hand down on the counter so hard the sugar canister rattled.

“I’ve only done it once!”

“Quality over quantity, Keith,” Shiro seethed, “No board for a week, you’re walking to and from school.”

“Shiro-”

“No! I’m done with this attitude of yours. I don’t care if you wanna blaze through life, I don’t give a fuck if you want to get the hell out of here, but you will finish high school, you will leave a clean record, and you will make your parents proud.”

Keith felt his blood boil.

“Why do you even care?!” he screamed, “I’m just another problem to you; I don’t even get it! Why are you trying so much!” This was stupid. This was so, so stupid. First Lance, now this. He thought nothing could possibly mess up his life even further, then everything decided to all just crash down on him all at once.

Shiro went red with rage. “Because I’m your brother!” he growled, stepping closer. “It’s in the description! I have to take care of you. I have to make sure you’re doing alright in school and in life. I don’t get how you don’t understand that! I’m just trying to help-”

“We’re not even related!” Keith interrupted, shoving Shiro hard in the chest. He stumbled back, nearly slamming into the kitchen counter.

“It’s not your job! Just go away! I never wanted you to take care of me!”

“Oh, don’t you pull that crap on me!” Shiro bellowed. “I am your legal guardian! Do you have any idea how hard I worked to get that title?”

“Bullshit!” Keith cried. “You didn’t do jack shit!” He sucked in a ragged breath, blinking away the pressure behind his eyes.

“Mom and dad just did some stupid ass thing in their will and then you just showed up like a fucking bitch ass stranger when they decided to drive off a cliff, so don’t you dare say you worked hard when all you did was walk into my life without even asking for permiss-”

“Go to your room!” Shiro snapped, “I’m done with this!”

“I’m not-”

“Your room!”

Keith snapped his mouth shut, watching as Shiro pointed to the stairs with all the force in the world, eyes burning with rage. It was like staring down the barrel of a gun.

Keith grit his teeth and stomped for the steps, kicking hard at the kitchen table as he passed, making sure to create as much noise as possible as he descended up to his room.

* * *

 He lasted a week of avoiding Lance and dancing around interactions and conversations and ‘wait, Keith, I need to talk’ before Pidge finally descended upon him like a demon in a fit of rage. And how’d they do it? In the form of a very, very angry and very, very scary phone call.

The first time his phone rang, Keith ignored Pidge, choosing to simply just turn his phone screen side down and shove it as far away as he could without actually sitting up. The second time he ended up just grabbing it again and shoving it in between the couch cushions, whistling absentmindedly as Shiro stared at him in a mix of astonishment and mild concern.

The third time it rang, Shiro, who’d yet to talk to him since their shouting match, made eye contact with Keith.

Then he dove for the cushions.

Keith screamed, diving after his brother. Shiro batted him away, keeping at arms-length with a simple hand to the forehead as Keith yelled a continuous "no no stop it stop it don’t you dare!” The cop picked up the call anyways, holding the phone to his ear cheekily and looking Keith dead in the eye.

"Hey Pidge," he greeted, "how've you been?"

Keith fumed at him silently, sending telepathic hate towards his brother at the speed of light. "Shiro," he whispered, "I want you to stop and think about what you're doing."

Shiro smiled, sickeningly sweet and more deceptive than Keith had ever seen him. "Yeah, Pidge," he said, "Keith's here." Keith let out a garbled scream, falling down to the floor in defeat. "Yeah," Shiro continued, "I'll hand you over." He held out the phone, a displeased frown on his face.

"Have fun."

Keith flicked him off, snatching the phone out of Shiro's hands with a sneer and a few swears and holding it gingerly up to his ear, making sure to keep it a few good inches away in case of the chance Pidge would have screaming fit, which was actually quite high.

"Hi," he grumbled into the phone, turning around and heading for his room once Shiro made a shooing motion. Keith listened to Pidge take in a breath, sucking up air for an infinite second until suddenly-

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Keith ripped his cell away from his ear, holding it at least a foot away as Pidge started their rant, words streaming steadily out of the device. He winced, holding a hand to his ringing ear. "Ow," he grumbled.

"Keith I swear to fucking god!" Pidge yelled, voice reverberating up the stairwell as Keith stepped off the last step and headed for his room. He could hear Shiro’s laughter down in the first floor, faint but loud enough to nag at Keith. "Are you even listening to me?!" Pidge howled.

Keith let out a sighed, switching hands and holding his phone up to his uninjured ear. "Yes, Pidge," he sighed, "I'm listening."

"Good," they seething, "cause I'm ranting."

"Pidge you don't need to-"

"Oh hell yes I do!" They screamed. "Do you have any idea how annoying Lance has been! He's been over at my house every day! Every day!"

Keith rolled his eyes. Gee. That had to be terribly terrible, didn't it?  "I can't even work on my physics project!" Pidge continued. True to their word, they were ranting. Keith stared at his window longingly, wondering just how many bones he would break if he tried jumping out and running to safety.

"He too loud! And he ate all my peanut butter! I need peanut butter to make my egg drop project, you know that!"

"Uh, actually, I don't," Keith grumbled, flopping down into his bed with a huff. "We're not all geniuses like you, I can't make an egg drop project with just peanut butter."

"Peanut butter and Tupperware," Pidge corrected, "and don't you dare sidetrack me! I'm ranting about this shit situation you made! Make up with him; make _out_ with him. Do it in the closet or something. I don't care, just fix this! Get him out of my house!"

Keith groaned, rolling over and burying his burning face in his pillows. "I don't feel like it." Pidge growled; physically growled, deep in their chest like some kind of demented, condensed lion. "Pidge, I'm serious. I don't want to ... whatever with him."

There was a pause. Keith could hear Rover's collar jingling in the background. "Is it cause he's a guy?" Pidge asked after a bit, their voice soft for once.

"No, Pidge," Keith sighed out, frustrated, "it's not a sexuality thing."

"Then what kind of thing is it? A type thing? A _height_ thing -"

"-I'm 5'10, Pidge," he snapped.

"-A personality thing? Or is it a commitment thing?" Keith said nothing. "It's a commitment thing, isn't it?"

"Uhhh..."

"Goddamn it, Keith," Pidge groaned, sounding livid. "You find one guy, one guy, that I like, that you like, that _Shiro_ will probably like, and you don't get with him because you don't wanna put in effort?!"

"It's not like I don't want to put in effort," Keith protested, "it's just-"

"Just what? You don't get it! This is so frustrating, you just - I've been working with Lance for years on - gah!" Keith could practically hear the steam pouring from their ears. "You went on study dates, you went on date dates, you went to the fucking beach! Why the hell did you put so much effort in of you were just gonna drop him?!"

"I didn't drop him!" Keith cried, standing from his bed.

"He kissed you,” Pidge seethed, continuing their tirade. "You kissed him back. And then you ran away. You dropped him, Keith, like a hot potato, like bad book, like a ... a - a mic! You dropped him like a mic and then you just left the stage!"

"I - that was a terrible analogy!" Keith sputtered.

"It was a fucking awesome analogy," Pidge growled, "And don't you change the subject! You led Lance on and then you dropped him and now I'm stuck with a mopey boy brooding around my house, not to mention his depressed phone spam! Fix this."

Keith glowered at his wall, seething silently. "What if I don't wanna fix this?"

"Keit-" they started, obviously at wits end.

"Let me finish," Keith hissed.

Pidge was silent.

"What if I don't want to fix whatever I had with him? What if I don't wanna drag myself into a relationship that's gonna spiral down after the second day? What if I want something serious with someone who takes it seriously?"

"Lance takes this seriously!" Pidge protested, "you just-"

"Lance has the commitment issue!" Keith roared, finally losing it, "not me! Him! He dates people for three weeks and then breaks up with them because he can't dedicate himself to anything! He’s had girlfriend after girlfriend and he’s let them go one right after another!

Ugh, he needed to punch something. Searching around, he grabbed a pillow, shucking it at his door. It didn’t even make a thud upon contact, and, somehow, Keith felt his fury re-double.

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push away the feeling of ragerageragerage as it pinballed around in his skull, jumping from ear to ear, lobe to lobe, until it shot down his back and spread through his whole body.

He hated this feeling. Hated it, hated it, hated it.

“Who says that won’t be me! Who says he won’t play with my mind then dump me on the curb like a broken dog! I know what he’s capable of, I know he was playing and I know he’s joking around and I know he was fooling with me this entire time just to get in my pants!”

Something inside him screamed that he was wrong, that he was making up excuses, that Lance wasn’t terrible and Keith was connecting the wrong dots and everything would be alright. But he didn’t want to listen to it.

He wanted to seethe and rage and make Lance see that he wasn’t going to be played around with.

“Don't you dare say I'm making the wrong decision,” he growled, gripping his phone tither and tighter until he feel the case dig into his fingers. “Don't you dare say that it's my fault. I have only done one thing and that’s protect myself from his stupid, demented little games."

The line was silent for a while, then:

“Keith,” Pidge hissed, malice flowing through the phone, “Lance’s had a crush on you since seventh grade.”

* * *

 It wasn’t anything special. There was no rain; there was no breaking up a date or ‘wherefore art thou Romeo’ or deadly accidents paired with hospital make-outs.

There was just Keith knocking on Lance’s door and Lance’s younger brother answering.

There was just Mrs. McClain showing Keith to Lance’s room and forcing the rusty hinges of the door open. There was just silence as Keith walked in and Lance looked up and his mom shut the door with a wink Keith would only hear about a few days later.

They sat there, the air awkward between them. Lance was at his desk and Keith on Lance’s bed, both of them looking anywhere but each other.

Keith glanced around, taking in the navy-blue walls, all four, blue the ceiling, splattered with faded, tack on stars, the kind that would glow come night. It looked like a galaxy, breathtaking and beautiful, like Lance’s mind had surrounded the whole room.

The only spot that wasn’t covered by the space ascetic was a corkboard filled with polaroid.

There were simple shots of the sky, covered in tiny specs of light indiscernible from each other as they hung over an empty ocean or a gaping canyon or just a simple expanse of desert.

Others had posed pictures of Maria and a few other kids, all of them dressed up as space rangers or decked out in Santa hats. Mrs. McClain and a man Keith could only assume was Lance’s father stuck out in some others, wide smiles breaking their faces in half as they beamed at the camera.

Pidge and Hunk made a few random appearances, too, popping up in random corners of the board, their aces half hidden by each other, as if they’d fought for space each time they’d tried to take a picture.

Keith stared at it for a while, taking in the new information.

He glanced back over to Lance, who was just staring at him like an idiot. Keith blushed, breaking eye contact and instead searching for something else, like maybe some of the mounted black and whites lying on the edge of Lance’s desk.

After a few more minutes of stifling quiet, Keith finally spoke up.

“Are you gonna finish that?” he asked, motioning towards a beat-up Mac with Lance’s half-finished essay on the screen. “Looks important.”

“It is,” Lance muttered.

“Then why aren’t you working on it?”

Lance swiveled around, face contorted in a milder form of anger. He did that stupid, stereotypical things with his mouth, opening and closing it like a fish desperate to breathe, then snapped his lips shut and turned back to his paper.

Keith watched in slight amusement as Lance yanked his Mac towards him, starting to type out a sentence.

Clickclickclickclickclick … clickclickclick … clickclick … click … click “ARGH!” Keith winced at the growl of annoyance that ripped through Lance. The said boy whirled towards him. “I can’t finish this with you here,” Lance snapped, “So if you’re not gonna do anything then leave.”

Keith gaped. “Wha – I went out of my way to come here, to apologize!”

“Then apologize!”

“I just did!” Keith wailed, throwing his arms up in the air. How much more did Lance expect? What’d he want, for Keith to grovel at his feet and beg for forgiveness or something?

Lance scoffed. “That was the most half assed thing I’ve ever hear-”

He was broken off by a shout of “Shush!” from Mrs. McClain, followed some rapid Spanish Keith could barely pick up on. It was rapid and fast and strong enough to bite through the wood of Lance’s bedroom door.

“Mama!” Lance protested. She simply snapped something back from across the hall and Lance’s face started looking less and less like a cherry tinted with rage and more like a mask of opaque, red paint.

Keith bit his lip to keep from snapping a cruel comment towards the boy, sinking further into the bed as he braced himself. Tension, the physical kind, always made him feel better, like he was in control; bracing his muscles meant he was ready for anything. “What’d she say?” he grumbled.

Lance was silent, is mouth closed as he tried to figure out whether or not to actually translate for Keith. “Do you really wanna know?” Keith shrugged. Lance waited a beat or two, then sighed. “… ‘Kiss him or shut up.’”

God, why’d he even ask?

“Sorry,” Lance continued, “She doesn’t know about our … fighter and she just thinks we’re arguing a bit. I don’t think she knows I …” He trailed off, eyes boring a hole in the floor.

Keith cleared his throat. “Well,” he muttered, wringing his hands so hard he thought he might break a finger, “are you gonna?” Lance glanced up at him in confusion. “Kiss me, I mean,” Keith clarified with a mumble.

Lance pursed his lips. “No. No after how you reacted last time.”

Well, _that_ was gonna take a good ass chunk outta his self-confidence storage. Silence hung thick in the air. Keith felt his lungs deflate. ‘Good’ he brain said.  ‘Not good,’ his chest said.

“I … I’m sorry about that, by the way,” Lance continued, hands fidgeting with each other. “I shouldn’t have … yeah.”

Keith’s nails bit into his palm.

This was why he hadn’t wanted to see Lance again. This was why he ditched school and got in trouble and could barely summon enough mental strength to look Lance in the eye. Lance didn’t mean it. He never meant it. He joked around, played around, hopping from relationship to relationship like a bee to flowers.

But …. But Pidge said Lance had a crush on him, had had one on him for a while. And Keith trusted Pidge, as stupid as that sounded. He trusted her, even though she was a backstabbing, bitchy sass master.

“Do you think it was a mistake?” Keith asked. Lance opened his mouth, a whoosh of air passing out instead of words. He pursed his lips, once again finding purchase in the carpet at his feet. “Well, do you?” Keith pressed.

It wasn’t the best thing to do, not in this situation.

After all, he’d come here for one reason and one reason only: to apologize. And he hadn’t even really done that yet. But he wasn’t the one at fault. Sure, he’d led Lance on, he’d responded to his flirting, his jokes, even his kisses, then he backed out.

Lance took a breath. “To be honest, I’d do it again.”

Keith’s heart punched his brain, knocking both it and common sense into the stratosphere. He had to practically grip the sides of Lances bed to keep from dropping to the floor in a fit of happiness.

“I mean, not now,” Lance continued, “But, like, if there was ever a time machine-” Lance cringed at the words “and I went back … or something, I wouldn’t … I wouldn’t not do it.”

Keith licked his lips, tongue drier than Shiro’s cooking. How did he respond? He needed to respond. What did he even say? ‘I’d do it again too?’

BANG!

Lance’s eyes went wide.

He got up so fast his chair spun, looping in hundreds of circles as he stomped towards the door, ripping it open to reveal Maria, and, alongside her, a mini Lance. Both of them squealed, rushing for the stairs as Lance yelled after them, his voice reaching a pitch Keith didn’t even know existed.

He rubbed at his ears and glanced towards the window. It didn’t have a screen. He could just open it and parkour the fuck outta here. He’d probably break a leg trying, but he would always, well, try.

The door slammed and Lance huffed, creating a thunderstorm with his feet as he walked back. He looked at Keith, face red. “Sorry. They, uh, well, I haven’t really brought anyone home before. Well, I mean, I didn’t bring you home, but-”

“I’m sorry,” Keith blurted, mouth moving faster than his mind, “I know you probably took everything seriously and wanted to get more out of… this, and I know I probably hurt you or something when I freaked and…”

Keith huffed, trying to find the words to describe what was going through his head.

“I don’t want this,” he managed, glancing up to watch Lance’s façade crumble, “But… I also want this.”

Lance sucked in a breath, simply watching Keith long enough to make it awkward. When he finally spoke, it came out as more of a laugh than actual words. “I’m gonna quote Avril and ask ‘why you gotta make things so complicated?’”

Keith was quiet. The seconds rolled by in silence, broken only by childish squeals and a random dog barking in the distance.

“Pidge said you had a crush on me.” Lance’s head snapped up so fast that even Keith winced. “She said you’d had one since middle school.”

“…I…” Lance’s face resembled that of a shocked, emotionally tangled teenager’s more than a gaping fish’s, really, but the analogy was so spot on Keith couldn’t really help but think that the boy looked like a drowned tuna.

“I dunno if they were telling the truth,” Keith said, “I mean, I know they are, but Pidge’ll pester people and stretch that person’s emotions out for them. I don’t really know if you still … like me, or something but I just.” He took a breath. “I came here to apologize. And to … figure things out.”

Lance looked at the ground, then Keith. Ground. Keith. Ground. Keith. “You kissed me in the seventh grade,” Lance blurted.

Keith almost fell off Lance’s bed. Wait? What?

“At the dance,” Lance continued, “I’d just gotten water from the drinker fountain and you just passed by, all angry looking, then you grabbed me.” He laughed. “You grabbed me and dragged me into the bathroom and you kissed me and ...”

He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Our teeth hit each other. It was really, really bad. It was also my first kiss.”

“I…,” Keith started. He still couldn’t… What? _That_ was Lance?

“I saw you the next day,” Lance mumbled, “I tried to talk to you, but … you ignored me. Told me to go away. You didn’t recognize me. For some odd reason, thirteen-year-old me found that hot.” He gestured around him, “And here we are, me still finding you hot and you forgetting I exist.”

Keith just stared at Lance, not really comprehending what was going on. “Uh …. I thought that last part was the other way around?”

Lance smiled, forced and bitter, but understanding. “I guess I did have a pretty good glow-up, if I must say. Braces did me good.” He grinned and Keith couldn’t help but notice that, while Lance’s smile didn’t blind him anymore, Keith still found it bright and warm and – Oh. Oh.

Damn it!

Keith buried his head in his hands, groaning. Great. Just great. _‘You done fucked up,’_ he thought, _‘You done fucked up real good, idiot.’_ He heaved out a sigh. What’d Pidge call this stage? Pining? Or was it simple admiration?

“Keith? Buddy? My man?”

He sputtered, any coherent thoughts thrown from his head just from the sheer stupidity emanating from Lance; it was like an aura, except the aura read ‘idiot’ instead of something actually useful. “I – wha – you - Do _not_ call me buddy,” Keith grumbled, slouching down in hopes of maybe just disappearing into himself.

“Not when you had your tongue down my throat less than a week ago.”

Lance blushed, “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” he questioned, swiveling to face Keith. The said boy glanced up, making eye contacts with Lance from under his lashes. He felt his face burn even brighter because, damn, Lance looked good from this angle.

“A million,” Keith snapped.

Lance snorted, “Are you gonna count all of those?” he asked. Keith glowered, ready to snap back a retort, but Lance just sighed, getting up from his chair and flopping down on his bed next to Keith. Keith jolted, spine standing ramrod straight as he turned to face Lance.

He just sent Keith a small smile, “Okay, fine, start counting.”

Keith blinked. “Counting what?” he asked.

Lance gave a muffled groan of frustration, throwing himself back to lay on his bed, legs dangling on the edge of the mattress. “Fuckin’ city rat,” he grumbled.

Keith batted his lashed, “Thanks, boo, I try.” Lance spluttered, seemingly choking on his spit. Keith laughed. “What?” he asked, “Don’t like me using those names, honey bun?”

Lance rolled over, burying his face in his mattress. “Insufferable, you are,” he groaned.

“Yoda,” Keith laughed slightly, thinking back to when he only just knew Lance. The said boy raised his head slightly, grinning at Keith at the reference. He grinned back, elbowing Lance’s knee, “Though I still don’t think you’re using that word correctly.”

“You know what?” Lance grumbled, “Shut your quiznak.”

Keith rolled his eyes, laying back next to Lance.

He lifted his head slightly in greeting, shooting Keith the goofiest thumbs up he’d ever seen before dropping his face back down into the baby blue sheets. “You’re so dramatic,” Keith huffed, turning on his side to face the boy. Lance just made a few dying sounds, paired with a few ‘fuck you’s and the bird.

They laid there for a bit, not exactly touching but close enough to feel each-others warm.

At some point, Keith felt his mind drifting, eyes drooping as if they were weighted down by dumbbells disguised as the lull of sleep. His body felt heavy, probably from all the stress he’d been carrying around due to Lance and their stupid ass fight.

Keith rubbed at his eyelids, rolling over onto his side in hopes of waking himself up or something. It didn’t really help, and after a few minutes of fighting it he just closed his eyes, his breath evening out as his mind fogged over.

The next thing he knew, Lance was shaking him, hard, slapping the side of his face lightly as tried to wake Keith up. The said boy groaned, batting Lance away. Lance gave a frusterated groan. “Hey, dumbass, no sleeping in my bed, that’s for level 37 boyfriends, got it.”

“We’re not even boyfriends, dumbass,” Keith grumbled, forcing himself to sit up.

Lance grabbed him by the shoulders, holding tight. Keith opened his eyes, blinking away the film over his eyes. “What?” he asked. Lance just stared at him, staying still long enough to make Keith think he’d go back on the whole ‘not gonna kiss you again’ thing Lance had going a little while ago.

Then Lance started shaking Keith again,

“Okay, okay, ow, stop,” Keith huffed, “I can feel my brain sloshing around, I’m good.”

Lance sat back, pulling his legs up with him to sit more comfortably. No matter what he did, he still looked too small for everything. It was kind of funny, considering he wasn’t much taller than Keith, but he still seemed to have such long limbs. “Awake now?” he asked.

“No thanks to you,” Keith spat, rubbing at his temples. Lance just smiled harder. A few more beats passed in silence, then Lance spoke, voice soft.

"Speaking of boyfriends,” he said, “Do you kinda, I dunno, wanna be mine or something?"

Keith turned to look at him, taking in those blue, blue eyes and that bright, bright smile and he was gone, lost in everything surrounding him. He blinked away the daze, forcing himself back to reality. He shrugged. "I dunno, do you want to?"

"I kissed you," Lance deadpanned.

Keith rolled his eyes, shuffling a bit closer. "So did I,” he mumbled. _‘Wouldn’t mind doing it again,’_ he thought absentmindedly.

Lance snorted, unattractive and off-putting, but it made Keith smile. "Well," he drawled, "you kind of ran. So, I don't really know."

Keith hummed, "Hmm, well, I guess." Lance groaned, smacking him in the shoulder. Keith just laughed. "Okay, okay, fine. I'm good. Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

Lance grinned. "I'd like that a lot."

**Author's Note:**

> In the end this was over 40 pages, nearly 18,500 words, but I definitely had fun writing this. Thanks to the klance secret santa team for making all of this, and thanks to Zack for applying, I loved writing this for you! (guys! follow them on tumblr at slytherinandout!) I hope you enjoyed it Zach, and happy holidays to everyone!  
> (the title comes from Rock Bottom by Hailee Steinfeld and DNCE)


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